


Stupid Cupid (you're a real mean guy)

by chicklette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Best Friends, M/M, Only One Bed, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Valentine's Day, is the real villian, sleeping in is a thing steve, steve's alarm clock, vacation fic, what could go wrong?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicklette/pseuds/chicklette
Summary: It's February and the weather in Brooklyn in shitty.  So when his best friend Bucky offers Steve a week-long, all expenses paid trip to Mexico, he figures, what could go wrong?  So what if it's a couples-only resort.  Over Valentine's Day.





	Stupid Cupid (you're a real mean guy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bk_Betty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bk_Betty/gifts).



> Beta'd with wonderful suggestions, as always, by the ever-amazing buffyscribbles. <3 <3 <3 forever.
> 
> Title from the song.
> 
> Much love to thatsmysecretduh for hand-holding. She deserves better. But, here we are.
> 
> bk_betty said hey, you should write me some bed-sharing. I said sure, lemme whip that out after dinner! ...A week later: this. :|

Steve’s alarm goes off at five.

His feet hit the floor with a thud as he walks across the room to turn it off.  He grabs for the sweats and shirt he left out the night before, sliding his feet into cold socks and cold shoes before he lifts his key from the hook next to the door and steps out into the cold Brooklyn air.

Thirty minutes later he’ll actually wake up, and thirty minutes after that, he’ll stop in front of his building, chest heaving, body sweating, breath puffing hot into the cold.

Steve loves Brooklyn, but sometimes in winter, he feels like he’ll never get warm again.

At least, that’s the excuse he gives himself for what happens later that morning.

JBB:  Carly dumped me.  :(

SGR:  Ouch.  U ok?

JBB:  Yah.  Saw it coming.

JBB:  But

SGR: ??

JBB:  Still have tix to Mex.  No refunds.

SGR:  That blows.

JBB:  Wanna go?

JBB:  Cmon Stevie I’ll be your best friend!

SGR: …

JBB:  It’s 86 and sunny.  Right now.

Steve looks up from his desk where he’s trying once again to come up with something “snappy” for his boss.  Call him crazy, but he really doesn’t see how disposable paper towels can be snappy.

Still…he hasn’t taken more than a day or two off in the last couple of years.  And it is the slow season….

SGR:  Maybe?

JBB:  You’re the best.  O’Malley’s tonight?  7?

SGR:  see ya then

.

After a couple of drinks, Steve and Bucky part ways.  Walking home, Steve takes some time to really think about what’s he’s agreed to.

Okay, yes, it is a week in Mexico and an all-inclusive resort.

And the weather will be incredible.

But.

(And it’s a big but.)

It’s a couples resort.

Over Valentine’s Day.

With his best friend.

That he’s been hopelessly in love with since the tenth grade.

Okay, eighth grade.

Okay.  Fourth.

Still, Steve agreed.  The tickets were non-refundable, and he guessed a week in the sun wouldn’t be so bad.   Hell, it could be like that spring break from a few years ago, the two of them lazing in the sun and the surf, day drinking and afternoon naps, bodies heavy with relaxation.

“You’re an idiot,” Nat says when he tells her.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to get over him like this.”

“I know.”

“You’re a masochist.”

“I know.  But Nat, what am I supposed to do?  He’s not  - I can’t just cut ties with him, Jesus.  He’s my best friend.  He’s my – he’s my favorite person,” he says, voice going soft.

Nat leans across the table and holds his hand in hers.  “I know,” she says, and her voice is soft, too.  “Still,” she says.  “Don’t be surprised when you get there and there’s only one bed.”

.

She’s right, of course, she’s right.  

Steve and Bucky have margaritas at eight in the morning on the flight, and when they get to the hotel, they’re greeted with more margaritas.  By the time they check in and get to their room, Steve is neither surprised nor prepared for the solitary, large bed that dominates the room.  There are towels folded into a heart shape, and the bed itself is littered with rose petals.

Bucky takes one look at Steve, one look at the bed, and bursts out laughing.

“Looks like someone’s sleeping in the bathtub,” he says, and moves inside to flop onto the bed.

“Really, Buck?”  Steve chuckles, but when he looks, there is no bathtub.

“Uhm, I think the Jacuzzi is in lieu of a bathtub,” he says, eyeing the dubiously small sofa in the living space.

Bucky only grins and rolls to one side.  “Fine, but for the record, I know this was all a ploy to get in my bed.”

Steve huffs a laugh because _Jesus Christ_ , Buck, but joins him on the bed anyway, flopping down hard and making Bucky bounce.

“You caught me,” Steve says.  “Will you be my Valentine?”  

Bucky smiles, but doesn’t say anything.  They lay still for a few moments, with the distant crash of the ocean and the soft bubbling of the Jacuzzi for company.

Bucky reaches over and takes Steve’s hand.  “Thanks,” he says, and Steve squeezes back his reply.

He might never have Bucky the way he wants him, but this?  Now?  This is enough.

.

At the first dinner, they realize that they are literally the only two people there who are not part of a couple.  A moment later, they realize that a) everyone else there thinks they’re a couple, and b) they are the only “gay” couple there.

Now Steve’s been out for so long he doesn’t really think he’s ever been in.  He’d never had that painful moment of having to tell people he’s closest to that he’s not straight.  When Bucky said he was crushing on Jenny Jordan in the eighth grade, Steve disagreed.  “But have you seen her brother?” he asked.

Bucky’d only laughed at him.  “He’d break you in two!” Bucky teased.

“But what a way to go,” Steve said, eyes dreamy.

So Steve takes it in stride, but Bucky startles.  A moment later though, he settles. He takes Steve’s elbow and guides him to their table, pulling Steve’s chair out for him.  They drink wine and eat enormous amounts of food, each of them surprised at how good the food is.

After dinner, there’s a dance party in the pool upstairs.  They go, surprised at how many of the women are topless, and at how strong the drinks are.  After a few rounds, Steve taps out, his head already spinning.

Bucky gives Steve a questioning look when Steve says goodbye.  Bucky’s been dancing with every woman in the place, their men enjoying the respite, the women flirting with someone “safe.”  Steve smiles and shakes his head.  Bucky’s always been a charmer.  Sometimes he loves watching Bucky in action, but sometimes he hates it.

He opens the window to let the ocean air in before falling down onto the bed.

.

It’s deep into the night when he wakes up to the sound of Bucky getting sick.  Steve brings him a bottle of water and rubs his back, puts a cool washcloth on the back of Bucky’s neck.

“Booze or water?” he asks, because if Bucky drank the water, they might need an actual doctor.

“Booze,” Bucky pants, moaning softly before his stomach clamps down again.

Steve gives him a glass of water and a handful of pills to settle his head and stomach.  He fishes a t-shirt out of Bucky’s bag, and notices a pack of condoms and a tube of lube, tucked into the side with Bucky’s socks.

His stomach twists.  He wasn’t really expecting Bucky to hook up this week, but, well, Bucky is Bucky.  Steve figures worst case scenario he can camp out in one of the cabanas by the pool, but he knows that if it comes that, he’ll be pissed.  He didn’t come to Mexico for a week to watch Bucky hook-up with random women.

After he dresses, Bucky crawls into bed and Steve follows behind, carefully staying on his side of the bed.

Bucky sighs and wiggles closer, then sighs and does it again.  “Quit being weird,” he says, and reaches over to wrap Steve’s arm around him.

Steve breathes deep, but he goes, pulling Bucky close, tucking Bucky’s head under his chin.

They slept like this as kids, but reversed.  Steve was skinny and small, and Bucky’d been his brother, best friend, and champion.

“C’mere, punk” Bucky would say, and tuck Steve into his side.  And Steve would fall asleep, feeling so loved and safe.  It wasn’t until later, when both of them were waking up with morning wood and being downright mortified about it that they’d started sleeping back to back.  As adults with their own bedrooms, and then own apartments, they sometimes slept in the same bed, but it was rare, and Steve was careful not to touch.

Now, Steve is the big spoon, having finally edged past Bucky in height and weight.  Somehow, though, it still feels the same:  he feels safe, and protected. So much so that he doesn’t even notice it when he presses a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head.

.

Steve’s alarm goes off at five.  

He ignores Bucky’s groans and gets up, stuffing his feet into warm socks and stiff shoes, before heading down to the sand to do his miles on the beach.

The hard-packed sand is still softer than he’s used to, and his thighs burn with the effort.  Inside of two miles he’s sweating hard, and by the fifth mile he’s gasping like he did when he was a kid, trying to get his body to keep up with his spirit.

When he comes back around toward the villas, he looks up to see Bucky standing in their window.  He’s got a cup of coffee in his hand and for a moment Steve’s heart stutters, then swells.  He wants to come home to that view every morning.

When he gets out of the shower, Bucky’s got a cup of coffee for him.  They go down to the dining pavilion for breakfast, then flop into a lounge bed in the shade, again ignoring the heart-shaped everything around them.

“Thanks,” Bucky says.  “For last night.”

Steve grins.  “Never could hold your booze,” he answers.

“Whatever, grandpa Rogers.”

Steve reaches out and flicks Bucky’s ribs, lightning fast.

“Ow, you bastard,” Bucky says, hissing and holding his hand over his ribs.  “That is no way to treat your Valentine!”

“What’s that?” Steve says, cupping a hand over his ear.  “Can’t hear you.  Ears don’t work like they used to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says, but sets down his mimosa and closes his eyes.

Steve reads a book while Bucky learns to SNUBA in the shallow pool.  Steve gives up a nap to join Bucky in a game of poolside trivia.  Bucky wheedles, and Steve joins him for horseshoes down on the beach.  They do it all through a haze of weak drinks and brilliant sunshine, under the expectant gaze of half of the guests on the property.

When one of the guests challenges them to kiss, Steve demurs, but Bucky tugs him close, wraps his arms around Steve before dipping him down and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

When Bucky hauls him up, Steve’s blushing furiously, but he can’t stop the way he reflexively licks his lips.

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night.  When he opens his eyes to look at the time, he finds Bucky in the bed next to him, eyes half-lidded, blinking at Steve.  It makes him feel warm and soft all over.

“Hi,” Steve says.  His brain is foggy and thick with sleep and in the moment, everything feels like a dream.

“Hi,” Bucky answers, and gives him a small, soft smile.  It reminds Steve of when they were kids, and they’d sleep over at each other’s houses.  They’d drag the couch cushions onto the floor and tent sheets with a chair, or wedge them into bookcases, until they’d created their own hidden world.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer and they lay there in the quiet, looking at one another.

“You ever been in love, Stevie?” Bucky asks.  His voice is low and soft.  It makes Steve want to shield him, protect him from whatever it is that’s plaguing him.  He might be in love with Bucky, and he might even spend his whole life like that – wanting something he can’t have.  But loving Bucky?  That means wanting happiness for him.  Just because Bucky won’t find his happiness in Steve, doesn’t mean that Steve isn’t cheering for Bucky to find it.

Steve breathes deep, holds it, as his sleepiness slips away.  He can tell the truth, or he can lie.  Or he can do what he always does, and edge around it.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?”

“I don’t think I have.”  Bucky lifts his hand, rubs it against his chest.  “D’you think something’s wrong with me?”

“No!”  Steve’s answer is fierce and immediate.  He reaches out, grabs the hand that Bucky was holding to his chest, and squeezes it tight.  “Just because you haven’t found the right person yet, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.  Jesus, Buck.  You are –“ Steve pauses, cataloguing the millions of things that make Bucky special.  “You are smart and you’re kind and you’re – shit, you’re hilarious.  Don’t be worried just because you’re not willing to settle for someone who isn’t all those things, too.”

Bucky smiles, but then stares at Steve a little longer, a curious look on his face.

“You know, sometimes I used to wish…”  Bucky blinks, looks away.

“What?”

A wry grin twists Bucky’s face.  “Nothing, punk.  Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Buck,” Steve says.  He’s still holding on to Bucky’s hand, and he squeezes it again.  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The smile on his face is soft now, but sad.  “I know, Stevie.”  He blinks, and they stare at each other a moment more.

“Come here,” Steve says, and lets go of Bucky’s hand, raising his arm for Bucky to come close.

Bucky turns over, molds his back along Steve’s front, and Steve tucks his arm around Bucky’s waist.

This is doing nothing good for him.  By the time they get home, his self-loathing is going to reach epic levels.

But right now?  Right here?  Steve couldn’t care less.

.

Steve’s alarm goes off at five.

He shoves his feet into warm socks and warm shoes and is pounding sand within minutes of opening his eyes.  He woke up to Bucky sleeping heavy on his chest, arm thrown around Steve’s waist, drooling a little on Steve’s bare skin.

It’s not that he hasn’t had relationships before.  He’d dated Charlie for almost a year, before Charlie’s grad program took him to Iowa, and they both agreed that Steve wouldn’t follow.  So it’s not that he’s not used to having another man in his bed.  

But it’s Bucky.  Steve falls into the swiftest, sweetest sleep with Bucky in his arms.  He knows he’ll be eating his heart out for the next month at least, but…it’s not like he can say no.

He turns the conversation from last night over in his head.  He doesn’t know how to help Bucky, because he’s not really sure what the problem is.  Bucky’s always been a little fickle, never settling with one girl for too long.  Everyone they know has tried setting him up, but nothing’s ever stuck for more than a few months at a time.  Bucky’s never brought a girl home to meet his Ma.

Steve would fix it if he could. He just doesn’t know how, but part of him (and it’s a part he hates) is happier this way.  

He has a whole week with just him and Bucky.  He’ll worry about what happens next when they get home.

As Steve finishes up his run and heads back toward their villa, he looks up to see Bucky at the window, cup of coffee in his hand.

.

“Hey, you wanna go into town?” Bucky asks.  “They have these kayak trips through the bay that look cool.  Or maybe rent dune buggies?”

“Man, sick of me already?”  Steve throws his sweat-soaked t-shirt at Bucky’s head.

“Gross,” Bucky says, catching it and then dropping it.  “I thought it’d be fun – get off the property for a while.”

Steve stares at Bucky for a moment, the conversation from last night playing through his mind. “Yeah, alright,” he says, before heading in to the bathroom to shower.  After lunch, they take a forty-minute taxi ride into town, and then exchange the tokens that they’d received at the resort for paddles and a two-seat kayak, and set sail.

“How are you so bad at this?” Steve asks, laughing as Bucky tries to steer them wrong again.  “You were on the swim team!”

“Ugh,” Bucky shivers.  “Don’t remind me.  And being on the swim team doesn’t mean I know how to steer an ocean-going vessel!”

Steve sputters a laugh.  “It’s a fucking kayak, Buck.”

“Are we in the ocean?”

Steve laughs.  “Left to go right, Buck.  Left to go right.”

“Whatever, Rogers.”

“Buck, Stop.”

Steve pulls up his paddle and taps Bucky from behind do the same.  “Look.”

Bucky picks up his head to look around and his face is overcome with wonder.  Steve navigated them inside of a cavern and brought them to rest beneath a huge opening.  The sunlight shines through, and the water was a deep, clear blue.  Vines dripped down through the opening and everything is still and quiet – just the lapping of the water against the side of the kayak, and Steve and Bucky, breathing.

Steve trails his fingertips into the water, letting it wash warm against his skin.  He’d read about this place when he’d agreed to go on the trip – a little recon for the “cheer Bucky up” mission he’d assigned himself.

They sit in the quiet, the kayak turning lazy circles in the warm, damp air, until someone else discovers the passageway and intrudes.

That night, just as they’re about to head down to dinner, Bucky stops Steve, takes his wrist and circles it with his long, slender fingers.  “Thanks, for that, today.” he says.  His eyes are the soft, luminous blue that they turn when Bucky’s relaxed and feeling easy.  It’s Steve’s favorite color.

“Sure, Buck,” Steve says.  “Let’s go get some food.”

.

Steve’s alarm goes off at five.

He groans because last night he’d relented and let Bucky feed him shots of something sweet and green that left his legs feeling noodley by the end of the night.  He’d worry about slipping, about saying the wrong thing to Bucky, but he’s kept quiet for so long that he doesn’t think he could say the words if he had to.

“Fuck that thing, stay in bed,” Bucky says.  He tightens his grip around Steve’s waist and Steve takes a deep breath.

“Go back to sleep, Buck.”

Steve slides on his shorts and pushes his feet into his shoes.  He slides his key card into his pocket and hits the sand, pushing himself hard.  His head is pounding and his heart is pounding and his lungs feel like they’re on fire.

When he comes around to their villa, he looks up.

Bucky is standing at the window, cup of coffee in his hand.

.

“Hey, do you wanna –“

“Dude, no.”

“What?  You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say.”

“I’m not gonna mambo with you, Buck.  I’m not gonna limbo either.”

“Please, like you could keep those shoulders up off the ground.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Oooooh,” Bucky calls, already collecting morning cocktails from the bar.  “You some kind of secret limbo champ?”

“You’ll never know.”

“Fine,” Bucky huffs, but hands the drink back to Steve.

An hour later he’s asking Steve to smooth sunscreen over his shoulders so that he can run out for a swim.

An hour after that, he drags Steve into the water with him, and an hour after that, he’s smoothing sunscreen onto Steve’s back.  Through it all, their cocktails remain topped up, cold and sweet.

Steve naps and Bucky flirts, charms, and drinks his way around the pool, stopping in to chatter with various couples, but always coming back to Steve in the end.  It sparks something in Steve, something that wants all of Bucky’s attention on him.  Sometimes he hates how gregarious his best friend is.

That night’s activity is salsa dancing.  The two of them trip their way across the dance floor, trying to emulate the instructors and having a hilarious time with it.

Steve feels lit up - he’s warm and relaxed and boozy, and Bucky is smiling up at him, his eyes that same, soft blue.  As the song ends, Bucky pulls Steve close, smirks and winks and then dips him.  The world slips out from under him for a moment, and then he finds his center of gravity.  He lets go of Bucky, lets his body dip down lower, before coming back up, spinning Bucky, and dipping him low.

“Stevie!” Bucky gasps and his smile is the brightest thing that Steve has ever seen.  It would hurt if it didn’t look so good.  Maybe it hurts a little anyway.

Steve wants to kiss him.  God, Steve’s been so good all week.  He’s hardly let his thoughts stray once.  But here, with Bucky in his arms, smiling at him like that, looking so young and so happy – he’s everything Steve fell in love with all those years ago.

As Steve sets Bucky back on his feet, he finds he’s loathe to let him go, his fingers clinging to a patch of skin on Bucky’s waist, where his shirt rode up when Steve dipped him.

“I’m gonna call it a night,” Steve says.  He can’t quite meet Bucky’s eyes.  It’s Valentine’s day, and this is  - this is his sweetheart and he just - he _can’t_.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, Buck.  Just – early morning, you know?”

“I’m gonna burn those shoes, pal.  C’mon, stay out with me, punk.  We’re on vacation!”

“Nah,” Steve says.  “Have a good night.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

.

Steve’s not asleep yet when Bucky comes in.

“Stevie? You still up?”

He thinks for a minute about staying quiet.  Pretending.  

“Hey Buck,” he says, turning over.  “Surprised to see you back so early.”

“Yeah,” he says, kicking off his shoes.  “Danny Johnson propositioned me in the men’s.  Figured it’s time to call it a night.”

“What?”

Bucky laughs.  “Yeah, I woulda, but, seemed tacky to take him up on it with his wife there.”

Steve stares at Bucky as he takes off his shirt.  He slides his jeans down over his hips and wanders into the bathroom in his boxer briefs.  Steve listens as he turns on the water and brushes his teeth.

“What?” Steve says.

“’ooayunnnng?”

“What?”

Bucky pokes his head out of the bathroom and looks at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“You said…what?”

Ducking back into the bathroom, Bucky finishes up and comes back out.

Steve is sitting up in the bed, staring at the Bucky-shaped space in front of him.  Did he just…he said…. “What?”

“What what?”

“He hit on you?”

Bucky shrugs.  “Wouldn’t be the first time, pal.  But, you know, hard pass on the married guys.”

“What?”  This time he can hear how breathy it comes out.  Startled.  He is.

Bucky walks to the small fridge in the corner of their room and pauses for a moment with his back to Steve.  Steve can see the line of tension down Bucky’s spine, the way he’s holding himself just so.  Bracing himself.

Opening the fridge, Bucky cracks a couple of beers before he turns around.

“I never meant to hide it from you,” he says, and hands one of the beers to Steve. “It wasn’t – I didn’t want things to get awkward.”  Steve can’t stop staring.  Bucky’s eyes are the flat gray of an almost storm.

And that’s – Steve reels.  It…it makes sense.  Of course Bucky knew about how Steve really felt about him.  How could he not?

But to feel like he had to hide his sexuality from Steve?  God – he doesn’t know if he’s more pissed at himself for his stupid feelings, or Bucky for even – why would he even think that?

Something shows on his face – Steve’s always been a terrible liar – because Bucky’s face crumples.

“Well, anyway,” Bucky says, “that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what you think of me?”  He knows he sounds hurt and pissed off.  He is.  He feels the fuse of his anger light and then it’s shooting hot through his body, making him feel too big in his skin.

Bucky looks up at him, confused.  “What?”

“Like I’m gonna hold it against that you don’t want to fuck me?”  Steve says, setting the beer aside and getting up to pace in his boxers.  He stops right in front of Bucky, because fuck this.  Just… _fuck this_ . “I’ve got news for you, Buck.  I have _always_ known that you don’t want to fuck me.”

He enunciates the words and exhales hard at the end.  He’s wounded and livid and the only thing in the world he wants right now is to be anywhere but here.

“That’s…?”  Bucky sounds confused and Steve could give literally zero fucks.  He pulls on tomorrow morning’s shorts and is reaching for his t-shirt when Bucky calls his name.

It’s not like they’ve never had fights.  There were broken toys and cribbed notes and that period where they both were trying way too hard to be cool.  Steve can get prickly and snarks too hard, and Bucky has a tendency to get lost in his newest relationship, but they have always, _always_ been there for each other.

They just need a little space, Steve thinks, sliding on his shirt and grabbing his shoes.

Just a little – “Fuck.”  He pulls at a knot in his shoelace and the lace breaks.  “Goddammit fucking fuck.”  He throws the shoe and goes to move past Bucky, reaching for his flip-flops.  So what if he can’t run this off.  He’s still leaving.

“Steve.”  Bucky stands in front of the entryway, and Steve tries to shove past him.  “Stop,” Bucky says, bracing a hand against Steve’s chest.

Steve tries to move around him and Bucky ends up spinning them and giving Steve a shove until he lands on his knees, up against the bed.  He looks like he’s praying.

Maybe he is.

“Stevie, please,” Bucky says, and Steve bows his head, all of his rage dying.  Bucky sounds hurt, and a little bit lost, and Steve is still in love with the jerk.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky, what?”

Bucky moves to his side, lays a soft hand on Steve’s shoulder before he sits down beside him, his back to the bed.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d feel weird about not wanting me back.  And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before.  I just…I wanted, and this week has been _so_ …but I figured if  - if that’s what you wanted, you’d’ve said something by now.  It’s just…a lot, you know?”

Steve closes his eyes, leans his head in his hands, taking in what Bucky’s just said.  He sits back on his heels, feeling like he’s had a blow to the stomach.  Did Bucky really just say…?

“Buck?”

When Bucky looks up at him, his eyes are the clear, almost turquoise blue of the ocean.

“I don’t – I don’t think there’s been a day of my life where I didn’t want you,” Steve says.  “I never said anything, because…because I didn’t want to make it weird.”

Bucky laughs.  It’s a little hysterical, high and reedy, but then Steve joins in, and the two of them are on the floor, laughing away the embarrassment and the anxiety and the confusion and anger.

“Oh my god,” Bucky says.  “We are _assholes_.”

“Such assholes.”

Steve sits up with his back to the bed, bracing his knees up in front of him.  Bucky sits beside him as their laughter calms, and they share the silence.

“Hey,” Bucky says, breaking the quiet between them.  “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We made it weird.”

Steve laughs and tips his head back against the bed.  “We totally did.”

Bucky laughs, too, and soon they’re giggling with each other just like they did when they were kids.

“Shit,” Steve says, the giggle still in his voice.  He has an arm around Bucky and Bucky is leaning into him, still laughing. “I really want to kiss you, and all I can think is how fucking weird this is.”

“Right?” Bucky says.  “And if we fuck it up, that’s the story of our first kiss for the rest of our lives.”

Something in Steve stills at that because – because that’s exactly what he wants – for this to be his last first kiss.   To know Bucky’s thinking that as well...it’s sobering.

Before Steve can overthink it, Bucky turns to him and slowly, carefully, climbs onto Steve’s lap.  Steve tips his head back onto the bed and looks up at Bucky.  Steve is at least dressed, but Bucky’s still in his boxers and that’s really, really nice.

“Hi,” Steve says.

“Hi.”  Bucky’s got a sweet, dopey grin on his face, and his eyes are that soft, bright blue that Steve loves.

The situation doesn’t feel funny anymore.  It feels - it feels like his entire life has been leading up to this moment.

He cups Bucky’s jaw, feels the scrape of stubble there and watches as Bucky’s eyes dilate.  He strokes his fingers along Bucky’s hairline, and then cups the back of his head.  Steve tilts his head up.  He can’t stop looking at the wonder that is Bucky in his lap, his hand on Bucky’s face.  Bucky’s mouth.

They move at once, their lips brushing warm, and soft, and sweet, before Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, noses brushing, letting out a deep breath.

“Fuck,” Bucky says.

“That was….”

“Yeah.”

Steve pulls back a little.  “I’m gonna need –“

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and he brings his mouth to Steve’s again.

This time it’s not soft, and it’s not sweet.

Bucky’s mouth on his is hot, and Steve opens, lets his tongue slide along Bucky’s bottom lip.  Bucky’s tongue meets his, and suddenly they’re both frantic with it.

Somebody says ‘please’, and Steve is aware of his hair being pulled, Bucky holding him right where he wants him.  It makes him whine, that Bucky wants this, wants him, after years and years and _years_ of longing.  He wraps his arms around Bucky, one slung around his waist and the other his back, holding him close close _close,_ his skin hot under Steve’s hands.

Bucky’s warm and squirming on his lap, grinding down, and Steve can’t help the thrill of want that runs through him. He wants Bucky every fucking way, and even if this doesn’t go any further tonight, there’s a promise in the way that Bucky’s fingers tighten in his hair that he’ll have him, and soon.

He pulls Bucky’s head back and sucks along his neck.  He can taste the salt on Bucky’s skin and feels the vibrations of Bucky’s moan under his lips.  He wants to put his mouth on every inch of Bucky.  Every inch.

Running his palms down Bucky’s back, Steve grabs his ass and pushes him down to meet his hips.

“Steve – Jesus Christ.”  The way Bucky’s moving his hips is making Steve crazy with want.

“Top or bottom?” Steve asks.

“Yes, fuck.”

Steve sucks a mark just below Bucky’s collarbone, then teases the other one with his teeth.

“Top or bottom?” he asks again, because they’re heading that way, and Steve wants to be prepared.

“Either – I don’t care,” Bucky says, and then runs his hands along the expanse of Steve’s chest.

A thought occurs to Steve and he feels feral.  “Have you – Buck.”  He gasps when Bucky runs a blunt fingernail across one of Steve’s nipples through his shirt and he arches into the touch.

He pulls back, tilts Bucky’s head so that he can look into his eyes.

“Have you bottomed before?” he asks.  “Buck, has someone been inside you?”

Bucky bites one reddened lip and nods, eyes wide.

Possessiveness flares deep inside of Steve.  He’s never wanted anyone like this, never had to _have_ anyone like this.  In one motion he flips Bucky onto his back and crouches over him, cradling his head in one hand and sliding the other around Bucky’s waist.  He kisses Bucky deep, greedy, and Bucky’s kissing him back, just the same way.

Bucky brings his legs up around Steve’s waist and that – that’s exactly where they belong.

Steve spreads his legs so that he can grind down against Bucky, and Bucky digs his heels in, using the leverage to grind up against Steve.

Bucky breaks the kiss, gasping and pulling at Steve’s hair, fingernails scrabbling down his back.

“You wanna fuck me, Stevie?”

He – _Jesus_ , he _does._  He wants to fuck Bucky with his fingers and his tongue and his dick.  He wants to get inside of him, be inside of him, stuff him so full of _Steve_ and his taste and his cum that there’s no room for anyone else, ever.

“Yes,” Steve growls.  “Fuck, yes.”

Bucky levels a clear, blue gaze at Steve with not a little bit of challenge in them.  “Then do it.”

Steve pulls back and looks at Bucky, trailing his eyes up and down Bucky’s body, his skin tanned from their week in the sun, the pale skin that’s been covered by his trunks, the long legs.

“Get on the bed,” Steve says.

As Bucky leans back against the pillows, Steve arranges himself between Bucky’s legs, running his hands down his legs and resting them on Bucky’s ankles. Bucky takes one look at Steve’s face and then grins.

“What?”

“Your face.”

“Shut up,” Steve says.  “You know you look good.”  Between the two of them, Bucky’s always been a little vain.

“Maybe,” Bucky counters, a half smirk on his lips.  “But fuck if it isn’t nice to hear you say it.”

Steve takes off his shirt and throws it in a corner, then goes to Bucky’s bag for the lube and condoms.  He brings them back to the bed and sets them there, before settling between Bucky’s legs again.

“I was so pissed at you when I saw this,” Steve says.

“What?”

“All I could think was you coming down here, hooking up with some random girl.”

“Seriously?”  Bucky sits up, tucks his legs under him.  “You know I brought those because...well I was hoping….”

Steve watches as Bucky fumbles for words and that’s nothing he’s ever seen before.  Steve is the one who gets tongue-tied.  Bucky has always been pure charm.

Taking Bucky’s hands in his, Steve gives them a squeeze.  

Bucky shrugs.  “I was hoping I’d work up the nerve, this week, to tell you.”  He blinks and it’s the soft, bright blue again.  “Tell you that I want you.”

Leaning forward, Steve brushes a kiss across Bucky’s mouth.

“You have me,” he says, grin stretching his mouth.  “You’ve had me since forever, Buck.”

This time when they kiss it’s slower, sweeter.  Steve lays over Bucky, pressing his long body into the bed, feeling every inch of him.  He takes his time, licking into Bucky’s mouth, fingers on his jaw, his neck, tangled in his hair.  He wants to know every inch of this man.  Taste him.

His fingertips dance along Bucky’s skin, blazing a trail that his mouth follows.  He kisses down Bucky’s legs, the soft insides of his thighs, his ankles the arch of his feet.  Bucky squirms and giggles and Steve never knew he was ticklish there.  

It strikes him then, that this?  This is just the beginning.  Bucky is his best friend, and they’ve know each other since they were boys, but right now?  This?  This is all new, Bucky is all new, and Steve gets to be the one to open him up, discover all of his secrets.

When he takes Bucky into his mouth, Bucky gasps and fists the sheets.  When he slides his fingers inside of Bucky, there’s a whine and choked off, “Stevie.”  When he pushes inside of Bucky….  When he pushes inside, it’s reverential and the look in Bucky’s eyes - fear and hunger and love - the _love._  It pushes the breath from Steve’s lungs and he’s caught there, in Bucky’s eyes, and he can see that Bucky feels it too.

And then he blinks.

And Bucky says “If you don’t fucking move I’m going to find a new best friend.”

Steve smirks.  Then he moves his hips with a smooth, steady roll, and Bucky makes a strangled noise before tilting his head back and closing his eyes, then then making a series of punched out sounds that coincide with Steve’s thrusts.

“Holy shit how have we not done this before?” he gasps, bringing his legs back up around Steve’s waist.  “How have we not...fuck.”

“I know,” Steve says, bracing on one forearm an bringing his other hand down, under Bucky’s ass.  “Bucky,” he gasps.   _“Jesus.”_

“Harder,” Bucky groans, and Steve sits up on his knees, changing the angle.  Bucky all but squeals when he does.

“Like that?” Steve grunts and Bucky nods frantically, bringing his hand to his cock before Steve bats it away.

“Steve, Steve,” he gasps, breathing hard, voice frantic.   _“Steve!”_ he says, one last time, and then he comes, and Steve can feel it in his hand and around his cock, and Bucky is fucking gorgeous, flushed and fucked out, lips red, and panting hard.

“Buck,” he whimpers, because he’s going to come, but he never wants to stop, never wants to be anywhere but right here, inside of Bucky, with Bucky spread out beneath him, looking at Steve like he hung the moon.

“Come on,” Bucky says, biting his lip before he smirks, eyes lit up and bright blue, endless as the ocean.

Steve pitches forward and buries his head in Bucky’s neck, coming hard and letting Bucky pet him down.

“Don’t move,” Bucky says, when Steve stirs to pull away.  “Just...stay.”

He does.

 

After they’ve cleaned up, they lay together, Bucky tucked into Steve’s arms, and whisper in the dark.  Steve still can’t believe that this is his - that he gets to have this - not when he’s only wanted it for so long.

“How long?” Steve asks.  It’s not important.  If Bucky says it was yesterday, that’s good in Steve’s book.  It’s just that - he wants to know.

Bucky turns on his side to look up at Steve. He can see from the flush on Bucky’s cheeks that he thinks Steve will be unhappy with the answer.

So.  After then.  

Steve expected as much.  No one was looking at skinny, scrawny, scabby little Steve Rogers and thinking “damn I want a piece of that!”

Steve didn’t really hit a growth spurt until he was almost out of high school.  He was a sophomore in college before he really started filling out.  Now he’s a guy that everyone looks at as an ideal man - tall, muscular, and with a shoulder to waist ratio that he’s secretly quite proud of.

It’s okay that Bucky didn’t see Steve as attractive until after.  No one did.

“Remember Jenny Logan?” Bucky asks.

A bright girl with curly, dark hair comes to mind.  

“Our first apartment?” Steve asks.  She’d been the first girl that Bucky ever brought back to their place to stay over.  She’d glowed bright red when she walked past a tall and skinny Steve as he made coffee in the morning, on her way out of the house.

“Yeah,” Bucky says.  “She stayed over, and I thought it was gonna be so great.  She slept in my arms, and I kissed her hair and I expected - I thought it was gonna be that same feeling, from when we were kids and we used to share the bed, remember?”  

“Yeah,” he says.  Of course he remembers.

“Well, it wasn’t.  And I tried with two more girls, and then eventually with a guy and nothing ever felt the way it did when I was with you.  So then I got really drunk and you brought me to your bed to sleep it off.  I woke up in the middle of the night and you were wrapped around me, and there it was - that feeling again.

“Then Carol McCarthy was breaking up with me because I was always off doing things with you, and she says, ‘God, it’s like you’re in love with him,’ and I thought, ‘Yeah, well that’s because I am!’ Then I drank a half a bottle of scotch and puked all over your bathroom.

“So, I don’t know since when, Stevie.  I just know I do.  And I have.  And I will.”

Bucky pulls back a little more, takes a good, long look at Steve.

“I love you.”

Steve smiles until his face aches with it.  This isn’t _new_ , but it’s finally _theirs_.

“I love you, too,” he says, and watches Bucky the way that Bucky watches him.

Dawn creeps in before they finally rest, and they sleep there in each other’s arms, tangled limbs and mingled breaths.  It’s the sweetest thing either of them has ever known.  

.

Steve’s alarm goes off at five.  

Bucky groans beside him.  “I warned you,” he says.  He takes Steve’s phone, turns off the alarm and throws it across the room.

“Stay,” he says, not even opening his eyes, laying across Steve’s chest.

Bringing his arms around Bucky, he holds him close and breathes him in.  He smells like sweat and sex and shampoo, whatever it is he uses to keep his hair under control.

He smells like home.

“Yeah,” he says, and kisses the top of Bucky’s head.  “Yeah.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leveragehunters wrote the most AMAZING au! It has magic and world-building and is absolutely incredible! Please go read and give it lots of love. It's just fantastic! [The Necrofloranomicon.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13640571/chapters/31325814)
> 
> I'm [chicklette](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chicklette) on tumblr. Come say hey. :)


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